


The Darkness of the Night

by peoniesandpasta



Series: The Night Series [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, I just wanted to be safe and not trigger anyone, I promise it's not as bad as it sounds, Love Triangles, Multi, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Romance, This is mostly based on the musical, Threats of Violence, Violence, but it references Leroux's and Kay's novels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-11 13:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16476761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoniesandpasta/pseuds/peoniesandpasta
Summary: As Christine Daaé leaves the Opera Populaire with her childhood sweetheart, Madame Giry’s other daughter explores a forbidden relationship with the ominous Opera Ghost. [Cross-posted on FanFiction.net]





	1. Chapter One

_Remember a day before today,_   
_A day when you were young,_   
_Free to play along with time,_   
_Evening never comes._

_Sing a song that can't be sung_   
_Without the morning's kiss..._

_~ Remember A Day, Pink Floyd_

* * *

 

"Out of my way, you filthy rodent!" the soprano hissed as she stepped on the chorus girl's foot. The latter yelped in surprise and pain and scurried as far away from the prima donna as possible. Across the stage, her friend gave her a sympathetic smile.

As she sang, Laure couldn't help but admire the lead male dancer of the Opera Populaire. Alexandre Levesque. She nearly swooned at the sound of his name. He was a chocolate-haired boy with deep, ocean blue eyes and a smile that could (and did) melt the hearts of most women at the opera house. Laure was snapped out of her thoughts as his eyes met hers. He shot her one of his dazzling grins as he danced, causing a deep blush to spread across the chorus girl's face.

The rehearsal was halted when the lead tenor, a heavyset, bearded man by the name of Ubaldo Piangi, was unable to pronounce "Rome." Letting out a soft sigh, Laure crossed the stage to gossip with her friends while the conductor attempted to correct him.

"Mon Dieu, that woman is getting on my last nerve," Laure huffed as she reached her sister's side.

"I can hardly wait until she retires," agreed Meg.

"If she ever retires," chimed in Christine. Laure let out a soft giggle. She had always held a special bond with Christine. Although she was by no means antisocial, her circle was constantly evolving, with Christine, and, of course, her sister, being the only constants. Laure often mused that it was due to the understanding and sympathy of losing their fathers.

"I bet she's some sort of spirit who exists only to torment us," Meg tittered.

"What if La Carlotta is the Opera Ghost?" snickered Laure. The trio couldn't help but laugh at the idea of the buxom Italian skulking through the shadows of the opera house.

"Girls." The sound of a cane hitting the floor startled all three of them. "If you haven't noticed, we are still rehearsing."

"Sorry, Mother," said Meg and Laure in unison. All three girls bowed their heads until the ballet mistress walked away. Although she had always been strict, Madame Giry had become far coarser since her husband had died. Raising two daughters and an additional child alone had placed an enormous burden on her shoulders.

"Everyone, may I please have your attention?" The entire theatre fell silent as the voice of the current manager of the Opera Populaire, M. Lefevre, filled the room. With him were two other men whom no one recognized. A short, stocky man, joined by a taller gentleman of medium build stood next to the beloved manager. "Thank you. As you all may know, rumors regarding my retirement have been spreading. These are all true, and I now would like to introduce my successors, M. Richard Firmin and M. Gillis Andre."

Although everybody applauded, there was a tangible sadness that filled the room. While new management was certainly exciting, M. Lefevre was a kind, understanding man who appreciated all of the hard work put into the operas performed.

M. Lefevre's chest heaved slightly in a sigh as Carlotta sauntered to him, an obvious hint to introduce her to the new, unsuspecting managers. Laure twirled a blonde tress around her finger, tuning out the new managers' patronizing tone and Carlotta's shrill voice. She winced as Carlotta began to sing Act III's aria, resisting the urge to cover her ears. She let out a small scream at the sound of a piece of scenery clattering, instinctively gripping Christine's arm. No matter how often strange occurrences such as this one happened, they never failed to startle and frighten the company, particularly Meg.

"He's there, the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg cried, clinging to Laure. She hugged her sister as M. Lefevre cried for the Joseph Buquet, a filthy stagehand with an affinity for booze and ballerinas who were half his age.

"As God's my witness, I wasn't there! No one was!" he cried. "If there was anyone, then it was the Opera Ghost!" He bumbled back to his post, presumably to drink more.

"Signora, these things do happen," M. Andre, said, attempting to soothe the fuming diva.

"These…things do happen?" she repeated in a low voice. M. Lefevre tensed, preparing himself for the approaching uproar. Sure enough, Carlotta began yelling. "You haven't been here for five minutes! These things have been happening for the past three years, and you," she pointed a chubby finger at M. Lefevre, "haven't done a thing! Until somebody stops these things from happening, this thing does not happen!" She pointed at herself dramatically and grabbed Piangi's arm. As she stamped off, the latter glared at the three dumbfounded men.

"Amateurs."

The entirety of the room remained silent until M. Lefevre spoke. "Good luck, gentlemen. I must be on my way."

"La Carlotta will return," said Firmin flippantly after M. Lefevre had left.

"Do you believe that, monsieur?" asked Madame Giry, holding up an envelope with an ominous red seal. "The Opera Ghost has given me a message."

"Oh God in Heaven, you're all obsessed," Firmin cried in agitation.

"He merely welcomes you, commands that you leave Box Five empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?" Firmin questioned indignantly.

"M. Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a month, but perhaps you can afford more with the Vicomte de Changy as your patron." Laure noted Christine's gasp.

"What is it?" she whispered, careful not to draw her mother's attention.

"Raoul…" she smiled. "We played together before my father died. We were childhood sweethearts." Laure's jaw dropped.

"Christine! A chorus girl having a love affair with a vicomte? How scandalous!" she exclaimed in mock disappointment. Meg let out a giggle.

"Laure," her friend whined. "It's not like that!"

"Is there an understudy for La Carlotta?" Andre asked, eager to change the subject from the Opera Ghost's finances.

"No, monsieur, the production is new!" cried M. Reyer, the conductor, in a frantic tone.

"Christine Daaé could sing it, sir!" Meg said hurriedly. Christine visibly tensed,

"A ballet girl?" asked Firmin skeptically.

"She's been taking lessons from a great teacher!" added Laure. Christine was very secretive in regards to her lessons, but Laure had heard her sing, and it was what she imagined an angel would sound like.

"From whom?" asked Andre curiously. Christine began trembling slightly, and Laure regretted saying anything. The last thing she wanted was to put an unnecessary burden on her friend.

"I don't know, sir," she forced out.

"Oh, for the love of God, you as well?" Firmin sighed, clearly exasperated and probably regretting his decision to work at the Opera Populaire.

"Let her sing." Laure glanced at her mother in surprise. She would've assumed that the ballet mistress would have opposed the concept of Christine starring in an opera. "She has been well taught." The new managers regarded Christine's meek form for a moment, before Firmin spoke.

"Very well," he said curtly. M. Reyer began the song from the beginning, and the Swedish soprano began. Her clear voice took everybody by surprise, the way each note seemed to flow from her. After singing only a few measures, she was stopped by Andre, who gushed over her voice, and Firmin, who all but begged her to perform. After glancing at the Giry girls, who smiled and nodded encouragingly, she agreed.

"Oh, Christine, I'm so excited for you!" Laure exclaimed as she helped Christine get ready for the opera.

"Are you sure you're not upset?" Christine asked. "I know that you always wanted to have a lead role. I feel like I'm fulfilling your dream." Laure paused before answering.

"Well, I suppose you are, in a way, but you deserve this. Though I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn't jealous," she admitted. "And it's not just my dream. You wanted this too!"

"Maybe someday we can perform together!" Christine smiled. Laure giggled.

"That would be so much fun!"

"Five minutes, Miss Daaé," called a stagehand. Christine's smile faltered.

"What if I can't do it? What if I…What if I disappoint him?"

"Who? Your teacher?"

"I…I'll explain later. After the show. I don't have time." Laure smiled reassuringly.

"Christine, you're the greatest singer I know. You'll be amazing. And, I don't know much about him, but I know you won't disappoint this mysterious tutor of yours."

"I hope you're right." With that, the curly-haired brunette stood and waited for Laure to follow her out of the dressing room.

"Good luck, Christine, though you won't need it."

Laure watched as Christine took her place on the stage, and as the curtain rose, she was certain she felt another presence, aside from the dancers and actors, watching Christine as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment, even if you didn't like it, so I know how to improve!


	2. Chapter Two

After the performance, Laure and Meg hurried to meet Christine before an onslaught of fans could reach her. Christine opened the door for them, and they entered.

“Christine!” Meg squealed. Laure could have sworn she heard a masculine voice echo her friend’s name, but she brushed it off as belonging to one of the fans that was crowding around the soprano’s dressing room door. “You did so well!”

“You were perfect!” Laure agreed. Christine smiled shyly.

“Thank you both.” She turned her attention to Laure. “About my tutor…” The Giry sisters leaned in eagerly, sitting down by the new prima donna. “I know that this is going to sound crazy, but please listen.” Laure glanced at Meg worriedly. The latter nodded encouragingly.

“Of course, Christine,” she assured.

“When I was a little girl, my father always told me stories of an Angel of Music. And when he was dying, he said that he would send the Angel of Music to protect me. Ever since then, I’ve heard the Angel in my dreams. He’s always with me, protecting me, even now.” Meg took Christine’s hand.

“Christine, there’s no way that…” The soprano cut her off.

“I know how it sounds, but you have to believe me,” she whispered. “He’s here, in this room, watching over me.”

“Your hands are freezing!” the younger Giry gasped.

“Are you feeling all right? You’re so pale,” Laure noted, placing her hand on Christine’s forehead.

“Please, believe me. I…” She was stopped by the sound of the ballet mistress’s cane hitting the wooden floor. All three girls startled. They hadn’t even heard Madame Giry enter.

“Meg and Laure Giry. You two are performers, correct?” The girls nodded, bowing their heads. “Then go rehearse!” Meg scurried away before her mother could scold her again. Laure shot a worried glance Christine’s way but followed her sister.

“Meg,” Laure began, “I’m so worried about her. She wasn’t making any sense.” The taller blonde nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure it’s just stress. She’s been under a lot of pressure, and she must be exhausted,” Meg suggested.

“I hope you’re right,” Laure responded as a tall, handsome man with shoulder-length, dirty blond hair stopped the two girls.

“Excuse me. Do either of you know where I can find Miss Daaé’s dressing room?” he inquired with a polite smile.

“Christine isn’t seeing visitors right now, sir,” Laure said, skeptical of the man’s intentions. He looked kind enough, but she didn’t want to send a stranger to her friend, especially with the state she was in.

“Mademoiselle, I assure you that Miss Daaé would want to see me.” Laure narrowed her eyes, glancing at her sister before speaking again.

“What is your name, monsieur?”

“I am Raoul, Vicomte de Changy. When we were children, Miss Daaé and I were quite close friends,” he replied fondly. Meg nudged Laure.

“Apologies, Monsieur le Vicomte, I didn’t mean to be rude,” she apologized sincerely. “Her dressing room is down that corridor, the third door to the right.”

“Thank you, mademoiselle! And think nothing of it,” he assured.

“Christine is very tired, monsieur,” Meg began, “but I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic to see you. She’s spoken of you before.”

“Has she?” Raoul inquired, a boyish grin on his face. “Good things, I hope?”

“She remembers you _very_ fondly,” she giggled.

“Meg!” Laure exclaimed. “Forgive my sister. She forgets herself at times.” The vicomte chuckled, and Laure smiled too. “I’m very sorry, but we must be going now.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you. Thank you both,” he said gratefully as the girls squeezed past him. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” they said in unison. Once the vicomte was out of earshot, Laure smacked her sister lightly.

“Goodness, Meg, you are eighteen years old! Act like it!” Her sister giggled in reply.

“What? I only helped him!” Laure sighed, but let out a soft laugh. She supposed her sister’s insistence on playing matchmaker for their friend wasn’t too severe of a sin. Once the sisters had reached the stage, they parted ways, Meg to dance, and Laure to sing.  
Laure had never been as talented a dancer as Madame Giry, Meg, or even Christine. As those closest to her had always been able to effortlessly float about the stage, fluid movements coming to them naturally, Laure had felt detached. In addition to the fact that she was admittedly a bit clumsy, her heart had never been in ballet.

Instead, she lost herself in acting. Although she had never been cast in more than a minor part, she adored becoming someone new. Taking on the emotions and lives of other people fascinated her endlessly.

It was almost like putting on a mask.

The company had only been practicing for a little bit when the vicomte rushed onto the stage.

“Christine,” he shouted. “Where is Christine?”

“Her dressing room, monsieur,” said the conductor, exasperated that the rehearsal had been interrupted. The vicomte shook his head, champagne blond hair flying wildly.

“No, she’s gone!”

“Gone?” Laure repeated incredulously. Christine had been in her dressing room. There was no way she could’ve left before the vicomte had reached her.

“I heard a man’s voice, singing to her.” Laure felt her stomach drop. “The door was locked, but when I opened it, no one was inside.” The murmuring amongst the company was deafening to Laure. Christine…She wasn’t crazy. There was something in the opera house that was coaching her.  
Laure flinched as the vicomte’s gaze fell upon her. She could feel his desperation and anxiety.

“You!” he exclaimed. “You’re her friend. Surely you know something about this.” Laure’s chest heaved in a sigh.

“Come with me, monsieur.” She turned, trying to ignore the stares of everyone in the room. As she trudged through the hallways, she tried to ignore the churning in her stomach. There was no way that what Christine told her could be true. It was too fantastical.

“Mademoiselle…” Laure startled as the vicomte spoke. His tone was far softer than before, but Laure couldn’t be at ease. There was no way of knowing if Christine was safe or not, and Laure didn’t know what she would do if she…

“Vicomte, I’m sorry,” she began, “I have no clue where she could be.”

“Surely, you must…Surely, she said something, she must have told you…” Laure hesitated. “Please, mademoiselle. If you’re as worried as I am…”

“She spoke earlier of an Angel of Music. She said that her father sent an angel to protect her,” she explained. “Meg and I…we didn’t believe her, but what else could it be?”

“She told me something similar. I assumed she was only joking.”

“You did speak with her, then?”

“Briefly. I wanted to take her to supper. She needed to change, so I left. When I came back…” Raoul trailed off.

“She was gone,” Laure finished. He nodded slowly. “And you said you heard a man’s voice singing to her?” He nodded. Laure suppressed a shiver, recalling the voice she thought she had heard earlier that evening. She sighed softly before continuing. “I think that the Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost are the same. The Opera Ghost contacts my mother often. I think he trusts her, so perhaps she will be able to convince him to bring Christine back.”

“That’s all we can do? Wait?” he questioned, obviously frustrated.

“And pray,” Laure corrected, her distress over the situation growing exponentially.

_Pray that her Angel will return her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Thanks so much for reading! I would really appreciate it if you could drop a comment or leave kudos! It would really make my day!
> 
> Also, I didn't have a song for this chapter, as I couldn't really find one that fit (and I looked pretty hard), but if you have a suggestion, feel free to comment it or pm me!
> 
> Have a wonderful day/evening!
> 
> ~ Belle


	3. Chapter Three

_My body feels young but my mind is very old._   
_So what do you say?_   
_You can't give me the dreams that are mine anyway._   
_You're half the world away..._

_~ Half the World Away, AURORA_

* * *

It took two days for the Opera Ghost to return the Swedish soprano. Meg and Laure had been ecstatic and relieved when they found Christine, but their joy had turned to concern and sadness when Christine, brown eyes full of tears, had shouted at them to leave.

"I told you, I can't talk about it," she cried.

"Christine, you must," Laure urged. "We can't help you if we don't…" She was cut short by Christine's shrill voice.

"I can't! Why can't you understand that?"

"Christine, please," Meg pleaded.

"Just go!" The harsh scream silenced the Giry sisters immediately. Laure stood in shock for a moment before turning on her heel and leaving.

"Laure!" Meg called. "Laure, wait!" Meg shut Christine's dressing room door, flinching as she heard the door immediately lock. "Laure…What on earth happened to her?"

"I have no idea," she replied. "I wish she would just tell us! I understand how traumatic that must have been, but there's nothing we can do if she won't tell us anything!"

The girls continued to their shared room, where they found their mother. Although they would usually be on their way to rehearsal, the managers were currently trying to cast the new opera, a comedy called  _Il Muto_. The plot revolved around a young countess who was unfaithful to her husband.

"Girls," she began, "I understand how curious you two are, but it's best if you stay in the dark in regards to anything concerning the Opera Ghost. Don't stick your noses where they don't belong."

"But, Mother, this is Christine!" Laure exclaimed. "She's like our sister!"

"I know, child. She's like a daughter to me. Nevertheless, Christine is  _not_  my daughter. You two are. If anything happened to you," the ballet mistress trailed off. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Mother, you can't possibly expect us to…" Meg argued.

"Meg." The prima ballerina faltered, then nodded slowly.

"Now, I trust you two have been studying your librettos?" The sisters nodded. "Good. Continue to learn the music. Although I doubt it, the managers told me that they will have the show casted by this evening. We will begin to rehearse then." She paused, examining her daughters' downcast looks. "One day, perhaps, I'll tell you everything. Until then, focus on improving your crafts." With that, the ballet mistress left, leaving the girls to their own devices.

"Laure," Meg began delicately, taking note of her sister's tense posture, "are you all right?" The other blonde gave a small nod.

"I'm just worried about Christine. Did you see her, Meg? The way she looked as though she hadn't slept in days…She usually looks so lively, but today…she looked so dull." Meg nodded in agreement.

"And how in the Lord's name does Mother expect us to leave her alone about it, act like nothing happened?" she added, groaning in frustration.

Laure let out a heavy sigh before picking up her libretto, tracing the print on the leather cover. She had absolutely no idea what to do. She knew that her mother was wise and knew best, but Christine…

She had to help Christine, somehow.

"I think that we should focus on rehearsing this new show. For now, anyway, there's nothing we can do," she said softly. It pained her. She felt as though she was abandoning her best friend, but she needed time to think. She held her libretto to her chest, walking away.

"Laure…" Meg sighed, but followed her sister.

* * *

Opening night came quickly. Laure had been cast as one of the Countess's consorts. Her part wasn't incredibly large, but she couldn't help but consider it an improvement. In recent years, she had been steadily rising in the ranks of the Opera Populaire's company, and although still a minor role, it was vastly better than anything she had before.

However, she hadn't the drive to celebrate.

Christine's melancholic state had hardly improved in the weeks following her abduction. The brunette had always been elsewhere it seemed, always daydreaming about something. But since the incident, her joyous, fanciful absentmindedness had become forlorn.

In addition to Christine's despondence, Laure had a sinking feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. Carlotta had finagled back into the managers' favor, in spite of several menacing letters from the Opera Ghost. They had warned of a  _disaster beyond imagination_  if Carlotta were to sing the role of the Countess.

Surely, she was mistaken. She tried to soothe her racing mind with the curious fact that the Opera Ghost had remained silent throughout the rehearsals for  _Il Muto_. Not a single unexplainable noise had been heard by anyone, no scenery had fallen, no other mishaps had occurred. Everything was going perfectly, so why did Laure have this sinking pit in her stomach?

She shook her head as she finished getting ready. She truthfully wanted to laugh at her reflection. The white paint covering her exposed skin paired with the brightly colored lipstick and eye makeup made her look like a clown.

"Laure, are you almost ready? The show starts in three minutes!" Meg called.

"I'm coming!" Laure hurriedly adjusted her wig and took her place on the stage.

Half an hour into the opera, nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. Meg's movements were fluid and graceful, Christine's expressions were absolutely hilarious, and Laure had done incredibly well, if she did say so herself. She had almost abandoned her anxieties about that night when a booming voice shook the auditorium to its core.

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?" the voice bellowed. Laure nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of it. She snapped out of her daze at the sound of her sister's shriek, rushing to her and embracing her tightly.

"It's him," Christine murmured softly, as though she were in a trance.

"Your part is silent,  _little toad_!" Carlotta hissed. As much as Laure wanted to smack the diva across the face, she couldn't even bring herself to breathe.

The Phantom's voice rang out again venomously. "A toad, madam? Perhaps it is you who are the toad." Carlotta blanched, but instructed the maestro to continue. Laure forced herself to her correct stage position, feeling sicker than before. She said a silent prayer that nothing terrible would happen, that the Opera Ghost's goal was to frighten the management, company, and staff into submission.

Laure startled once more when Carlotta began  _croaking_  as she tried to belt out her high notes. Menacing laughter filled the theatre, and the managers hurried to soothe the anxious audience.

"Behold, she is singing to bring down the chandelier!" he shouted. Although the sound of the crystals on the fixture clinking together could be heard, it didn't move. Ignoring the Opera Ghost's ominous declaration, Andre and Firmin hurriedly announced that Christine would replace Carlotta as the Countess for the remainder of the show and that they would show the ballet while they waited for Christine to get ready.

Laure couldn't focus on anything but that  _voice_. It made her entire body feel cold. She mindlessly followed everyone as they exited the stage, rubbing her arms to counter the chill that took over her.

"Laure?" she startled at the sound of her name, looking to find its owner. Jade orbs met cerulean ones as Laure locked eyes with Alexandre Levesque. Though he was in a hurry to take his place onstage, he gently asked, "Are you all right?"

"Of course. Thank you," she replied with a forced smile.

"I've been meaning to ask…"

"Alexandre, the curtain is rising!" a ballerina called. Eyes widening, he jogged to the stage.

"I'm sorry, Laure. I'll talk to you later tonight!" Laure smiled, genuinely, this time. Alexandre had a calming air about him that soothed her even that night. She watched him gracefully float about the stage with the girls. The chipper music that flowed from the orchestra pit helped further calm her.

A piercing scream tore through her throat as a body fell from the catwalk above. As horrified as she was, she couldn't force herself to move an inch. People rushed around her, some trying to leave and others attempting to get the body down. The temperature of the room rose higher and higher until it was suffocating to Laure. She finally turned and ran as quickly as her legs could carry her, all thoughts of her sister and friends gone from her mind. The only sight she could imagine was the lifeless stagehand, hanging, turning slowly, as glazed-over orbs pierced her soul.

Somehow, she'd managed to reach the rooftop without falling. She sank to the ground, leaning against a statue of Apollo. She forced herself to take deep breaths, inhaling the crisp winter air. Though it burned her chest, she found it to be much more pleasing than the stifling heat from the opera house.

A hot droplet hit the snowy ground beside her, with more following until Laure buried her face in her hands. Choking on her sobs, she used her sleeves to wipe off her stage makeup. It felt heavy and sticky on her face and she needed it  _off_. She needed to think. She needed to breathe. She needed to…

"Raoul, it's not safe here!" Her friend's voice pulled her from her from her thoughts. "We have to go. He'll kill us both!"

"Christine, please, this 'phantom' is nothing more than a myth!" the vicomte argued emphatically.

"How can you say that?" the soprano cried out. "That man is  _dead_ , Raoul. Who else would have killed him, in the middle of a performance, no less?" She paused, and Laure turned silently to see the brunette, full lip trembling and wide eyes watering. "And I…He took me, Raoul! He took me down into his world. It was so dark and cold," she whimpered, running her hands through her curly hair. "And his face, I've never seen something so  _horrific_! He's half man, half devil!"

"Christine," the vicomte began in a worried tone. Christine's voice broke into sobs that made Laure's heart ache. She wished that Christine would have told her these things. She wouldn't have been able to understand, but she would have at least been able to comfort her.

She wouldn't have had to feel alone.

"And his voice," the soprano continued, "it's full of sorrow…and love."

"Love?" the vicomte echoed. Laure could hear the confusion and worry in his tone. "Christine…" Both girls startled as a low voice echoed the viscount's.

"What was that?" Christine whispered helplessly. She sank to the ground, burying her head in her hands. Laure turned back around. As much as she wanted to comfort Christine, she knew she wasn't meant to hear the things Christine had said.

After a pause, she heard the vicomte speak again. "You're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you. I'll make sure of it. No matter what I have to do, I swear I'll keep you safe."

"Raoul…"

"I'm taking you far away from here. This place isn't healthy for you."

There was another pause, then Christine agreed. "All right. After this show, I'll say goodbye to everyone, and we'll go." Laure's eyes widened. She and Christine had always been together, since they were little girls. She couldn't begin to imagine not having Christine by her side.

"I love you," whispered the soprano to her lover. Laure turned her head to see Christine and the viscount sharing a chaste kiss before turning her head back. Finally, the two left, and Laure let out a deep sigh. As she began to pull herself up, a deep voice forced her back down.

"I gave you my music," it murmured. "I gave you everything, Christine…And he…Of course he would love you." Laure's heart pounded in her chest, so hard that she could hear it, but she couldn't help the ache in her heart at the despair in the low voice. "You…" Laure's blood ran cold at the sudden shift. "You will rue this day, my Christine! I swear it, come hell or high water, I will have you with me!"

The hate-filled, enraged cries sent a chill down her spine, and she couldn't help but whimper. The air shifted once more as the voice's owner spoke with a malicious edge that shook Laure to her core.

"Who's there?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Hope you all liked this chapter! The song I chose was Half the World Away by AURORA. I think it fits Christine really well, and it's soothing to listen to. If you enjoyed this chapter, I'd really appreciate if if you would leave kudos! Have an amazing day/evening!  
> ~Belle


	4. Chapter Four

_I'm a long way from the one that I loved._  
_I've been tending old flames, lamenting what was,_  
_Drifting in a land time forgot..._

_~ Way Out There, Lord Huron_

* * *

 

“Who’s there?” the voice asked once more, sending another shiver down the chorus girl’s spine. The sound of snow crunching underneath boots was deafening to Laure. Tears streaked down her face again, her already raw eyes stinging even more. She squeezed her eyes shut as a gloved hand gripped her hair and yanked her to her feet. The man pulled her hair back so she had to stare directly up at him.

“P-Please, monsieur…I won’t….I won’t tell anybody what I’ve seen,” she begged. The Opera Ghost sneered at her.

“Indeed, I can’t imagine you will.” Laure’s heart dropped as his other hand closed around her throat.

“Please, monsieur, my mother…She…” She stopped as his grip tightened, cutting off her air supply. “Giry,” she choked out as the corners of her vision blurred. She was going to die, she was certain of it, but she had to try. She used every bit of her strength to claw at the Phantom’s wrist. He leaned in closer, baring his teeth. She gasped as his grip loosened.

“What did you say?”

“Giry, my mother,” she sobbed. “Madame Giry…She helps you…Please, monsieur, I won’t tell; just let me go.” Her voice broke as his hold on her eased at last. He released her, letting her drop onto the snowy ground. Sputtering to catch her breath, she sobbed coarsely.

“Speak not a word of this to anyone,” he growled. “If you do, I swear that you won’t have a chance to plead again, aides be damned.” Laure quickly nodded, and with a flourish of his cape, the Phantom disappeared, leaving the chorus girl shivering and crying. She allowed herself a few moments to catch her breath before forcing herself up and returning to the opera house, her legs shaky and balance wavering.

A loud _crash_ , along with the screams that followed nearly made Laure jump out of her skin. Before she had a chance to react, her sister called out to her desperately.

“Laure! Thank God you’re all right!” The younger Giry daughter threw her arms around the elder’s waist. “Where on earth did you go?”

“The rooftop,” Laure replied as evenly as possible. “What happened?”

“The chandelier. Christine had just taken her place onstage, and it dropped into the audience!” Laure felt her heart stop for a moment, the Opera Ghost’s voice echoing in her mind.

_'Behold, she is singing to bring down the chandelier!’_

“Is everyone all right?” Meg bit her lip.

“We don’t know. It happened so fast; I can’t imagine that the people beneath it had time to escape.”

"Jesus…Where’s Mother? And Christine…is she all right?”

“Yes, Mother took her to her dressing room. She told me to look for you and meet her once I found you.” Laure nodded and trudged to the dressing room, her sister following closely behind. The two remained silent the entire way, doing their best to ignore the cries of the people who were hurt and the shouts of those trying to help them.

“Oh, thank God, Laure!” Madame Giry exclaimed upon seeing her older daughter.

“Mother,” Laure choked, hugging the ballet mistress tightly.

“Where were you? You had us all worried sick!”

“The…the rooftop,” she managed.

“The rooftop?” repeated a fourth woman. Christine. Laure locked eyes with the lead soprano, noticing the worry they held.

“Christine,” she began, pulling away from her mother, “You have to go, while you still can. There’s no time to waste. _Hurry._ ” Biting her lip, Christine nodded.

“What happened?” Madame Giry asked. “Did something…?”

“Don’t worry about it, Mother,” Laure asserted, recalling the Phantom’s threat. After the events that had taken place that night, she couldn’t afford to call his bluff. She hugged Christine tightly.

“Don’t come back here, Christine. It’s not safe for you.”

“Raoul…He’s waiting for me. I have to go,” she said softly. Christine embraced the ballet mistress and her other daughter. “Goodbye. Thank you all so much, for everything.” The sound of the door closing resonated within all three women.

Several silent moments passed before Laure too left with no protest from her mother or sister, much to her chagrin. The room was suffocating her. The opera house was suffocating her, really. She first traversed to her room, where she removed the rest of her makeup and changed into a dressing gown. She breathed a sigh of relief once she had changed; she felt much lighter without the heavy costume.

Hugging her arms around herself, she wandered through the corridors, flashes of memory darting through her mind. Buquet’s body hanging above the stage, that horrible laugh, the feeling of the Phantom’s hand around her throat, the bone-white mask he wore.

A quiet sob pulled Laure from her racing thoughts. She glanced down to see a brown-haired man slumped against the wall, tears falling from his ocean eyes.

“Alexandre?” she called softly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He startled at her touch, damp eyes meeting hers.

“Laure.” Although he did his best to compose himself, his voice still broke. “Are you all right?” She nodded hesitantly.

"Are you?” He forced a smile.

“I will be.” He stared up at the ceiling, visibly fighting back more tears. “My mother…She finally came to see one of our shows. I finally convinced her…” He inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut. “She was underneath the chandelier.”

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” Laure gasped. “Alexandre, I’m so sorry.” He said nothing in response. Laure took in his disheveled appearance, clothes filthy from assisting those who moved parts of the chandelier, hair mussed, and face red. Her heart twisted in pain as he sank down to the ground.

She knelt beside him and tightly embraced him. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, the young dancer sobbing in the arms of the chorus girl, who soon too broke down.

Laure supposed she fell asleep with him like that, though she couldn’t remember it. Nor could she recall being carried back to her room by a pair of strong, muscular arms.

 She woke up, not to her sister’s usual chattering and bustling about, but to a silent, empty room. She sat up and stretched, sighing softly. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when a white envelope caught her eye. She reached over and plucked it off the chipped night table, gingerly opening the envelope.

_"Mlle. Laure Giry –_

_I give you my most sincere thanks for comforting me yesterday evening. I’m well aware that I wasn’t in a favorable state last night, and I greatly appreciate your sympathy.”_

Laure let out a gasp as she recalled the events that had taken place the night prior. She raised a hand to her mouth, remembering the Opera Ghost. She hurried to the mirror, emitting a horrified cry when she saw the dark bruises marring her neck.  Crimson and orchid danced across her fair skin, five dark fingerprints and the outline of a large palm decorating her flesh like a grotesque necklace. A trembling hand reached up to lightly touch it. She winced at the pain that followed, dull but prevalent nonetheless. Tearing her eyes away from her reflection, she continued to read the note.

_“I’m aware of how dreadful this sounds, but I’ve only just gained the courage to ask you. I’ve been desperate to ask you this for years now, but I’ve been horrified of rejection.”_

Laure’s eyes widened as they scanned the parchment. Surely, he wasn’t…

_“I understand how cowardly it is to ask this of you in a letter, but I couldn’t bear to ask you in person. But, please, consider this. It would be my greatest pleasure if you would allow me to court you. Your mother has given me her approval, and I sincerely hope you consider accepting my request._

_“If your answer is yes, please meet me at seven o’clock this evening in the grand foyer. I’ll be eagerly awaiting your response~_

_Yours, most sincerely,_

_Alexandre Levesque”_

A wide smile stretched across Laure’s cheeks. In spite of the morbid occurrences of the past evening, Laure couldn’t help but feel excited. Ever since she was a young girl, she had been enamored by Alexandre’s good looks and boyish charm. And, to think, he was interested in her too? She sighed dreamily at the thought of walking to rehearsals together, the jealous glares she’d get from the other girls who wished they were on his arm.

A sharp knock on the door startled Laure from her daydreams.

“Laure!” called Madame Giry.

“Yes, Mother?” The door opened, revealing the ballet mistress. Laure took in her mother’s appearance, noting the deep wrinkles etched into her worn face. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed as though there were more than there had been the night prior.

“Monsieurs Firmin and Andre have requested the presence of all cast members on stage in ten minutes. They wish to discuss the future of the Opera Populaire.” Laure nodded and produced Alexandre’s letter.

“Mother, did you know about this?” The elder Giry raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Alexandre asked me if he could court you a week ago. He seemed terribly nervous, very unlike him.” Laure suppressed another smile. All of this was so surreal; it was hard to take in at once! Without warning, she threw her arms around her mother, embracing her tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Madame Giry stiffened but accepted the sudden affection, patting her daughter’s back gently.

“Get dressed. You mustn’t be late,” she said before leaving Laure alone once more.

She hurriedly changed into a simple gown and made her way to the stage, her cheerful mood falling when she took in the somber energy of the cast members. Everybody looked so crestfallen, and nobody dared speak. Glancing around the stage, she searched for Meg.

“Are you all right?” inquired Laure once she found her younger sister, who gave a slight nod.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you. You seemed so tired.”

“No, thank you. I was.”

“Everybody,” called a weary voice. The entire room’s attention turned to its owner. Firmin cleared his throat before continuing. “Last night, we experienced a great disaster and tragedy. Four people, including our own Joseph Buquet, were killed. M. Buquet was hanged, and the other three perished when the chandelier fell.”

“In light of last night’s events,” said Andre, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt nervously, “we will be forced to close the opera house for a week while the auditorium is being repaired.”

“During this time, we will also be searching for a new lead soprano, as Mlle. Daaé resigned last night.”

“Frankly, I don’t blame her,” muttered Andre. Firmin quietly scolded him before continuing.

“We do ask that any sopranos who might be interested would speak with us and hold an audition after this meeting.” Laure gasped softly. She looked at her sister, who was already staring at her.

“Laure,” she whispered, “this is your chance!” The managers continued to drone on, but Laure couldn’t make herself focus. She felt horrible for feeling so excited and _happy_ while so many awful things were happening. She glanced at Alexandre, whose eyes were glued to the scuffed stage floor, and felt a pang in her heart.

“All right, that concludes this meeting. Everybody besides sopranos who wish to hold an audition are dismissed.”

Her eyes widened as her sister’s hand squeezed hers. Meg gave her a reassuring smile, and nudged Laure.

Taking in a deep breath and muttering a brief prayer, she stepped forward.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So sorry about the late update. I had a lot going on with Thanksgiving and family stuff. Thank you so much for reading! The song I picked for this chapter is Way Out There by Lord Huron. It's another Christine song, to me. Have an amazing day/evening!  
> ~ Belle


	5. Chapter Five

_It's not the song, it's the singing,_   
_It's the heaven of the human spirit ringing,_   
_It is the bringing of the line,_   
_It is the baring of the rhyme,_   
_It's not the waking, it's the rising,_

_And I could cry power..._

_~ Nina Cried Power, Hozier_

* * *

The audition went surprisingly well, Laure thought. Although the environment was tense and awkward, she was able to give a fairly strong delivery of "Comme autrefois dans la nuit sombre"* and seemed to impress the managers.

Once dismissed, she went back to her room, deciding to begin preparing herself to meet with Alexandre later that evening. She badly wanted to impress him, and she needed  _every detail_  to be perfect, from her hair to the natural makeup she would put on. As she applied the powder to her round face, she studied her reflection. Her honey blonde hair was twisted back and neatly pinned, with a few stray wavy tresses framing her round face. She sighed softly and began applying rose-tinted balm to her lips.

Setting the balm down, she glanced at her makeup for a moment before looking back into the mirror. She nearly jumped out of her skin, because the moment she looked up, she saw a pair of fiery amber eyes glaring at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but before any sound escaped, a gloved hand was covering her mouth.

"Don't you dare scream," growled the man as he hovered behind her. "If you do, I promise that I'll kill you." She nodded quickly, and he moved his hand away.

The reflection of the mirror allowed Laure to take in the Opera Ghost's appearance for the first time. The first thing she noted was the mask that he wore. She'd noticed it before, but it had been dark, and she couldn't see it very well. It seemed to be made of porcelain, and it covered only the right side of his face. The other half, to her chagrin, was entirely normal, handsome even.

Buquet had described the Phantom of the Opera as having yellow, coarse skin and not possessing a nose. But this person, this  _man_  seemed like just that. A man.

"Monsieur, I promise that I didn't tell anybody about what happened on the rooftop last night. I swear it on my life!" she promised hurriedly. Aside from that, she couldn't imagine any reason why he would come to her room.

"Yes, I'm well aware. I've come to you today, not with the intention of killing you, but with the intention of helping you," he began lowly.

" _Helping_ me?" Laure repeated, turning around to face him. "I'm sorry, I don't follow…"

"Your voice…" He paused, seeming to choose his next words with care. "Your voice is melodious, beautiful…"

"Thank you, monsieur," squeaked Laure uncertainly. This entire experience was surreal. The Opera Ghost came into  _her_ room  _on purpose_  to tell her that her voice was beautiful.

"Those men running  _my_  theatre are worthless. They have no idea how to find talent…but  _I_  do. You, Miss Giry, have the talent to become the new lead soprano of the Opera Populaire." Laure felt her cheeks heat up. Nobody aside from Christine, Meg, and her mother had ever complimented her voice, and for the Phantom of the Opera to…

"Monsieur, you must have me confused with someone else!" she exclaimed. A dark eyebrow raised in response.

"Do I? Tell me,  _little girl_ , what did you sing? Bizet, wasn't it?" She nodded slowly. "Your voice is strong and lovely, but your technique needs much improvement. I can help you," he said, leaning in until she could feel his warm breath on her ear. "I can train you and make you a star."

"A star?" she repeated, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Everything that she had ever wanted, everything that she had dreamed of…could all be  _hers_.

"All that you have to do is agree to let me train you." She met his eyes for the first time, hers filled with hope and excitement, and his filled with smugness.

"Teach me," she whispered. He smirked and turned away from her.

"Come to the rooftop in an hour.  _Alone_." She had no chance to reply, for the moment she blinked, he was gone, leaving her wondering if he had been there at all. She sat at her vanity, replaying the last five minutes over and over.

She remembered the rage in his voice the night prior. He had seemed to be so in love with Christine, but he was so cool and collected. She could still feel the leather of his glove on her mouth.

She shook her head, shaking off the thoughts, and finished primping until she was satisfied with her appearance. Taking in a deep breath, she began her trek to the grand foyer of the opera house.

Everything was golden. The walls, the statues, the floor…It was magnificently opulent.

"Laure!" The girl in question started at the sound of her name, turning to see none other than Alexandre Levesque. He looked worn and gloomy, but his eyes seemed to brighten when they met hers. "Laure, you came! I was so worried you wouldn't…"

"Alexandre, I don't know what to say. I had no idea that you felt that way towards me," she said truthfully. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that Alexandre Levesque might have had feelings for her. "But," she continued, "you have no clue how happy I am! I was enamored with you since I was a little girl!" Alexandre smiled widely.

"I wish I would have told you sooner, then." He paused. "Would you…Would you like to join me for supper sometime this week? Friday, perhaps?" She nodded eagerly.

"Of course!" The low tolls of a clock startled both of them.

"It's late. I shouldn't keep you awake like this. It's improper for a lady to be alone with a man, especially this late." Laure nodded in reluctant agreement. She didn't want to leave; they hadn't even been talking very long. But she knew he was right.

"Yes, I suppose you're right…Then, we can talk more tomorrow?" It came out more as a question than a statement, and Laure felt like kicking herself. She sounded too eager, too excited.

"Of course," he said with another dazzling smile. Laure felt her knees go weak. Her cheeks flushed as he took her hand, brushing his soft lips against her knuckles. "Bonne nuit, mademoiselle."

"Bonne nuit," she said softly, a smile growing on her face. He released her hand and turned, going to the men's dormitories, while Laure went the opposite way to the rooftop, still dazed by Alexandre's soft, kind voice and handsome face. She could hardly contain herself, emitting a giggle when she finally reached the rooftop.

She stopped when she heard a low growl, spinning around to find the source. The Phantom stood, eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Mademoiselle, I implore you to take this seriously, lest I retract my offer," he said lowly. "You're ten minutes late." Her eyes widened. How on earth had she been so careless?

"I'm so sorry, monsieur! It won't happen again!" she assured. He eyed her up and down, taking in her nervous posture and desperate tone.

"Yes, I'm sure it won't." He turned around, gazing at the skyline. The sun had set hours before, but the stars and city lights produced a dim glow that captivated Laure. "I've written a letter and given it to your mother to deliver to those to buffoons in the morning. It provides details regarding the next opera I want performed, as well as the cast list. I have, of course, placed you in the lead role, but, frankly, you have neither the skill nor technique to sing it…yet."

Laure flinched at his harsh tone. Surely, he didn't find it necessary to be so rude to her!

"We will meet thrice a week, at least. Critics can be merciless, and you have quite a lot of work to do, so it's imperative that we rehearse as often as possible."

Laure nodded in agreement. The Phantom offered his hand to her.

"Come with me. I have so much to teach you." Though she knew it was far too late to turn back, she found herself regretting accepting the Opera Ghost's proposal. Casting one final apprehensive glance at her feet, she met his amber eyes and reluctantly placed her hand in his.

With one touch, she had sealed her fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So sorry that I didn't update last week. I was sick as a dog, and I just didn't have a chance. The song for this chapter is Nina Cried Power by Hozier. While the themes did match this chapter pretty well, I picked it because I'm super obsessed with it right now lol.
> 
> *"Comme autrefois dans la nuit sombre" - A French aria from Les Pêcheurs de perles by Georges Bizet (1863). It tells the story of two men whose friendship is threatened when they fall for the same priestess. The aria itself is sung by the priestess, Leila, who muses on the times she spent with one of the two friends, ironically named Nadir. I chose this piece, mainly because of Mary Dunleavy's rendition of the piece. Dunleavy's voice is similar to what I imagine Laure's to sound like (though, of course, she wouldn't sound nearly as practiced and grand, as she hasn't had any training…yet).
> 
> Anyway, guys, thanks so much for reading! As usual, I want to know what you all think, so feel free to leave a review! Have an amazing day/night!
> 
> ~ Belle


	6. Chapter Six

_And there's a pleasure in hiding from the sun._  
No, I was never one for pretty weather.   
_I'd rather be creep, baby follow me into the water,_   
_I'll take you to the darker..._

_~ Siren, Kailee Morgue_

* * *

The journey to the Phantom's lair was long and dark (save for the lantern the Phantom had brought with him), and it was full of many twists and turns. She dared not let go of his hand, recalling tales her mother had once told her. Few could reach the Opera Ghost's lair, for he had placed traps all along the way to catch anybody senseless enough to face him. His hand, she noted, was large and, though her senses were dulled by the biting chill, almost skeleton-like. Through his gloves, she could feel his each bone protruding like that of a corpse. She shuddered at the thought.

Neither Laure nor her shadowy companion said a word throughout the trip until the masked man paused to assist Laure into a large, gothic gondola.

"Thank you, monsieur," she said softly, gripping his hand as she stepped into the boat, grimacing as it rocked gently beneath her. The boat shifted once more as the Phantom himself stepped inside, barely acknowledging her with a nod. Silence, as well as the soft splashing of the water beneath her, followed as the Opera Ghost rowed the gondola across the lake to…

"A house," gasped Laure softly. She blinked in disbelief as she took in the house's appearance. If it hadn't sat on an island in the middle of a lake, and were it not for the lack of windows, it would have looked like any other average house. Mustering up her courage, she asked, "Did you build it yourself?"

"I did," came a simple reply as they reached the island. The Phantom stepped out of the boat and offered his hand to the chorus girl once again. She took it and raised herself from the boat, noting that for a murderer, he was quite a gentleman. "Years ago, when this opera house was first built. I was able to… _modify_  the plans to my needs."

" _That's_  how you've never been caught," she realized. "You built hidden passageways throughout the Opera Populaire."

"Smart girl," he commented with a ghost of a smirk. She bit her lip. The things that he had done to become the infamous Phantom of the Opera…

They terrified her.

"As much as I'd love to boast about my extensive list of accomplishments, I brought you here to sing." She nearly scowled at his smug tone. He was so haughty and rude! Knowing that he could kill her before she could finish making some sharp retort, she bit her tongue, merely nodding in response. He opened the door to his house and entered, not waiting for Laure to follow. She scurried into the doorway to find herself in a parlor.

Though the house itself was fairly small and quaint, she noted the grandiose décor of the interior. Everything was a deep shade of crimson, trimmed with gold. In the center of the room sat an ebony grand piano, well polished and obviously cared for. Across the room was an enormous pipe organ, with scores and empty sheets littering it.

"I'll be back. I have to get the things I prepared for your lesson. Don't touch anything," he muttered before opening and closing another door, a small gust of air hitting Laure's face as he left. She glanced at the organ once more and went to it. She ran her fingers across a neat stack of papers. She traced the scratchy music notes and lines that decorated the page, brow furrowing as she took in all of the odd intervals between the notes. The title read:  _Don Juan Triumphant_.

Laure let out a yelp as a strong hand gripped her wrist, pulling her away from the score. "I told you  _not_  to touch anything."

"I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking; I was curious." She paused as the Opera Ghost released her wrist with a roll of his eyes. "You compose, then." Laure had never heard of such an opera.

"Are you surprised?" She supposed not. He was the Opera Ghost, after all.

"No, monsieur…"

"Stand by the piano. We will begin with a few simple warm-ups, and then I will teach you the music for the next opera I've selected," he instructed, voice firm and commanding. She was quick to do as he said, not wanting to displease him further. He sat on the bench, long fingers poised over the cream-colored keys, and played a five-note melody. "Sing this on 'ah.'"

She found herself forcing sound out of her throat. Her voice obviously trembled, and she fidgeted nervously with her skirt. Although she seldom found herself nervous when singing, the Opera Ghost's aura made her nervous. They had hardly begun moving up the scale until the Phantom stopped her.

"Are you  _trying_  to imitate a wild boar?" Laure flinched at his harsh words. "Don't play with your dress. Stand up straight, and for God's sake, stop looking at me as though I'm going to skin you alive. You're safe." Shaking his head in exasperation, he muttered under his breath, "Christine was never this antsy." Laure winced once more but did as he said, taking in a deep breath to calm herself. "Try again."

She did, making sure to keep her voice even, but the Opera Ghost halted her once more with a demeaning scoff.

"Has nobody  _ever_  told you that you don't sing with your throat?" She furrowed her brow in confusion, and shook her head slightly.

"N-No, monsieur, not that I can recall…" Sighing deeply, the Phantom stood up, and before Laure could blink, he was right in front of her.

"Use your chest to support your breath control. It will help you push the sound out with ease." He placed a hand underneath her breast, on her ribcage. Laure's breath caught in her throat, and she felt her cheeks heat up. "This is your diaphragm. Sing from it, rather than your throat." He retracted his hand, and she nodded slowly, still shocked that the Opera Ghost touched her in such an intimate place, even though it had only been part of his instruction. "Now, try it again," said the Phantom, sitting down at the piano once more.

This time, Laure made sure to utilize the Phantom's advice (demands, really), and he didn't stop her. Laure's voice moved up the scale, pushing the high notes until finally, her voice cracked.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly, not wanting to irritate him further. To her chagrin, his tone was something akin to gentle.

"Vocal range can be increased. It takes practice." She was careful to mask her confusion at his inconsistent attitude towards their lesson. Moments prior, he had been obviously annoyed, acting as though her mere presence was an immense inconvenience. Now, he was almost… _pleasant_. "You'll receive your own libretto later, but I would like for you to begin learning the music for the opera I've chosen to be performed next."

"May I ask what that is?" inquired Laure softly.

" _Fra Diavolo_. You will be singing the role of Zerline, of course." Laure nodded. She recalled when she was a little girl, the Opera Populaire had put on  _Fra Diavolo_ , and she remembered thinking the story was exciting and suspenseful. A thief who stole a young girl's dowry, forcing her to marry a man she didn't love…And the music was absolutely lovely!

The Opera Ghost handed Laure a stack of paper, bound by a thin cord. "Are you familiar with the music?" Laure shook her head slowly.

"I've not heard it since I was a little girl."

"Are you proficient in reading sheet music? Surely, you must be. You've lived here in the opera house for most of your life."

"Yes, monsieur. I learned when I was a child."

"Very good. Then, let's begin." Laure straightened, focusing on the black notes written on the paper.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, the Phantom ended the lesson and led her back to the corridor where her room was located.

"We will meet again on Friday, at the same time. I will retrieve you from your dressing room when the time comes." Her eyes widened.

"My  _dressing room_?"

"Every leading lady has her own dressing room, Miss Giry," confirmed the Phantom. "Good evening, mademoiselle."

"Good evening," she said, but when she blinked, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey, everyone! Thanks for reading! The song for this chapter was Siren by Kailee Morgue. It gave me Music of the Night vibes, but that's kind of an Erik/Christine thing lol, so I picked this one instead! I hope you all have a fantastic day/night!
> 
> ~ Belle


	7. Chapter Seven

_Spare me your judgments, and spare me your dreams,_   
_'Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams._   
_I sit alone in this winter, clarity which clouds my mind..._

_~ Thistle and Weeds, Mumford and Sons_

* * *

The following day, Laure found herself in the midst of absolute chaos. Most all of the chorus girls were arguing with each other in regards to whom the managers would eventually decide upon. Laure found herself doubting the Opera Ghost. It had taken her most of her life to get to her current position, and now, at the drop of a hat, she was  _supposedly_  about to become the new lead of the Opera Populaire. She honestly doubted that the managers would even consider her. There were girls who were far more beautiful than she was who were willing to do  _more_  for them than she was.

"If I could have everybody's attention," began Firmin, dabbing the sweat off of his forehead with a handkerchief, "I would like to make an announcement."

"We have chosen someone to replace Carlotta Giudicelli and Christine Daaé as leading soprano in our next production," continued Andre, fiddling nervously with the seams of his gloves. "We made this decision based on this individual's performance at her audition, our prior knowledge of her skill, and a… _recommendation_  from the Opera Ghost." As he stated the final reason, he glanced around the opera house. Murmuring ignited throughout the entirety of the company. Laure glanced at the scuffed floor as she caught a few remarks and exclamations.

"The  _Opera Ghost_?" gasped one ballerina, a girl Laure had played with as a child.

"Who could he have recommended?" Laure heard another say. Her heart hammered in her chest, the pounding nearly deafening her.

"Mlle. Laure Giry will be our new prima donna," announced Firmin at last, causing a loud gasp to erupt throughout the company.

" _Another_  chorus girl? I swear they're letting  _anybody_  sing the lead," scoffed someone.

"I've never even heard of her. Is she related to Madame Giry?" inquired one of the ensemble members. Laure bit her lip as people began gathering around her to congratulate her.

"Laure!" called Meg, pushing past the people that had begun to crowd around the girl in question. Laure found her mother, who too looked shocked. Meg wasn't able to reach her sister, because Firmin continued.

"Everybody, be quiet!" He sighed, wiping his forehead once more. "Mlle. Giry, will you come here?" Laure's legs seemed to move on their own as they carried her to the managers.

"Your audition was lovely, mademoiselle," Andre told her softly. "Please don't disappoint him." Laure nodded quickly as Firmin handed her a libretto. He nodded dismissively, and she returned to her sister, who looked ready to burst with all the questions she was dying to ask.

"Laure, when did you…?"

"We'd also like to announce our next opera and hand out librettos. While we still have to make repairs from the  _incident_  with the chandelier, we'd like to be able to open again as soon as possible. We also have a cast list posted outside of our office," finished Firmin. "Now, I'd like to do this in an orderly fashion…" Laure tuned out the manager's droning as Meg continued asking her questions.

"When did the Phantom of the Opera recommend you? Did you  _speak_  with him? What happened?" Laure bit her lip but answered as well as she could without giving too much away. The Phantom's threat still lingered in her mind, effectively keeping her from saying too much to her sister.

"He's teaching me to sing. He heard my audition and decided that he wanted me to replace Christine," she said honestly. Although she ached to tell Meg everything that had happened, from her first terrifying encounter with the Opera Ghost, to the house on the lake, she forced herself to omit certain details, for her own sake and for her sister's.

"Laure! How could you keep this from me? Does Mother know?"

"Laure." Both girls startled at the sharp tone. "When did you meet with him?"

"Mother, I…" began Laure hurriedly. The ballet mistress gripped her daughter's forearm, dragging her daughter away from the noise of the Opera Populaire's company.

"Meg, stay where you are. I need to speak with your sister privately." Laure glanced at her sister, but Meg wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Mother, please! Let me explain!" she pleaded.

"Laure, I've told you that he's dangerous!  _Why_  would you open yourself up to an active connection with him? He'll kill you!"

"He almost did, Mother!" she exclaimed. At her mother's shocked glance, she continued. "After Carlotta lost her voice, after Buquet was killed…I went onto the rooftop. He tried to kill me, but I told him that I'm your daughter." She paused, searching for  _any_  form of softness in her mother's steely eyes, but found none. "Mother, he spared me."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" asked Madame Giry stonily.

"We were all distracted. Christine was leaving, and the chandelier had fallen…I didn't mean to keep it from you, but I didn't want you to worry." The lie came easily. Laure didn't know what her mother would do if she knew the truth regarding the Phantom's threats. Besides, she couldn't shake the feeling that the Opera Ghost himself was listening.

"And he's teaching you to sing?" she inquired after another unbearable pause.

"Yes. He approached me the next day. I couldn't refuse," she replied. "Mother, I'm sorry." Biting her lip, she continued, "Please, Mother, say something!"

"I'm sorry, my dear. I should have been more watchful over you," muttered the ballet mistress. "I should have…"

"Mother, please don't. It's not your fault." Laure squeezed her mother's hand tightly, pulling her into a tight embrace. "We should go back. It's quieted down some. I think that they've finished handing out librettos."

"Yes…" Laure pulled away from Madame Giry, but the latter did not follow. "Laure, one more thing." Laure turned back, taking note of the worry lines that made her mother's aged face look years older. "Don't tell your sister. Her nosiness will be her downfall." Laure nodded.

"Of course." The two returned to the stage in silence, parting ways as a glittering smile caught Laure's attention.

"Laure!" exclaimed Alexandre, jogging to reach the new star. "Madame Giry, how do you do?" he asked with an easy smile.

"I'm doing well, Alexandre, and yourself?" she returned, curt as ever, making sure to seem as though nothing was wrong.

"As well as I can," he said, sadness briefly taking over his handsome features. Laure felt a pang in her chest as she recalled how he had wept in her arms. "But I'll be fine. I wanted to congratulate Laure!" The young lady in question smiled at the dancer.

"Yes, well, I have things to which I must attend. We will rehearse at three o'clock this afternoon. Don't be late," Madame Giry told Alexandre, who thanked her. As they watched her leave, Alexandre spoke once more:

"Congratulations, Laure! I know you're going to amaze us all!" Laure felt her cheeks flush, and she cursed them for it.

"Thank you, Alexandre. I…I appreciate your support," she stammered, once again cursing herself. When she saw him…when he spoke to her…all words escaped her. His kind smile made her insides melt, and she too felt a grin pull at her cheeks.

"Of course!" At this, his cheerful demeanor seemed to change into one of somber concern. "Laure…Are you all right?" His eyes scanned the room to make sure nobody else was paying attention to them. "M. Andre…He said that you were recommended by the Phantom of the Opera." Laure's face fell. Although she knew that his question was coming from a genuine place of concern and curiosity, but Laure didn't really want to answer. The more people asked, the more she wanted to tell, and the more danger she, along with everybody else, was in.

"I'm fine," she assured, forcing a smile. "I should go…I have to get ready for rehearsal." She retreated into the crowd of people, listening to Firmin drone on about the state of the repairs being made to the auditorium.

As he watched her go, the dancer smiled back, but it was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This chapter's song was Thistle and Weeds by Mumford and Sons. I chose it because of Laure's struggle with resisting Erik or sacrificing her dream (so profound lol). Anyways, I hope that your holidays are filled with joy! I'll try to update again before Christmas (as my 'gift' to you), but with finals this week and a party my friends are having, I'm super busy lol.
> 
> Have an amazing day/night!
> 
> ~ Belle


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